A Happy Healing Thing Happened

Working for a large university has its perks. HR sends out mass emails about wellness events, discounted gym memberships, virtual meditations, ergonomic tips for your office chair. You name it. I usually skim and delete. But a couple of weeks ago, buried in the middle of a routine campus announcement, there was a small section on Women’s Health and menopause support. I paused, then clicked.

Menopause has been managing me for a while now. Night sweats, irritability, a frozen shoulder, weight gain—and layered on top of all that: grief. Since Eddie passed away, my symptoms have intensified. And I started wondering—can grief make menopause worse?

The link led me to the Maven Clinic, a medical and mental health platform partnered with my university’s health insurance. It took about five minutes to download the app and set up a consult. I booked a 10-minute consultation with an OB/GYN and University of Florida grad. Eddie’s alma mater. (Go, Gators!) A small, weird comfort.

Appointment #1

I entered our virtual room not knowing what to expect, I ran through my menopause checklist. Then came the question: “What are your concerns?”

I told the doctor about my current state. I told her Eddie died in May and since then, everything—physically, emotionally—feels amplified. “Can grief affect menopause?” I asked. She nodded. Yes. Profoundly.

Our short conversation focused on things that can be beneficial in minimizing my symptoms, and then, unexpectedly, she asked if I have been talking to a therapist about my grief. I told her I had joined an online grief group but I am not receiving one-on-one counseling. That’s when she told me the Maven Clinic also offers free therapy sessions. Private. Forty minutes long. For an entire year. I had been so focused on managing the menopause, I hadn’t realized the Maven Clinic is also a full-service medical and mental health company.

After the consult, I went back to the app and found a mental health provider who specializes in grief. I made an appointment for the next day.

Appointment #2

After some quick housekeeping, and addressing what prompted me to reach out to a therapist, came the question, “What are your concerns?”

It hit me, suddenly and deeply. I’ve found some comfort in group grief counseling—there’s something healing about being among others who understand—but I also noticed that many people in these groups are still actively grieving loved ones who passed years ago. And while I get that grief doesn’t have a finish line, I also know I don’t want to still be recounting my pain in a grief group five years from now.

I’ve accepted that my grief will live alongside me for the rest of my life. Eddie’s absence is not something I’ll ever get over. But I want to carry him forward with love, not stay stuck in the heartache. I want to feel the fullness of his memory and also live the beautiful life we dreamed up together—even if now it’s just me walking that path.

That’s why private therapy, tailored to my own rhythm of grief, felt right. I need space to process this in a way that’s personal, intentional, and rooted in the life I still want to build.

My therapist got it. She understood that grief doesn’t follow a straight line. She saw how writing lets me give shape to the ache, and acknowledged that for me, putting it into words is often the best way to make sense of what’s swirling inside.

But when I opened up about the emotional toll of navigating Eddie’s affairs—the decisions, the loose ends, the unexpected hurdles—she saw the weight of it. That constant pressure, that nagging sense something else might blindside me… it’s exhausting. It’s why my nights feel stretched and restless. Like I’m always bracing for the next shoe to drop.

She suggested I write through those feelings too—not just the ones that speak of love and longing, but the ones steeped in tension and worry. To release it in my own private way. And, honestly, it’s helped. It’s brought a little more ease to my nights, a little more space to breathe. It has helped me embrace my Steady Eddie-ness!

I left that session feeling hopeful, and thinking… I like one-on-one counseling. Bring on appointment number three. I’m ready.

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